


Shadows

by Lucy112235



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Fantasy, Ficmas, Gen, Mystery, Romance, Spirits, for the loveliest bean who i love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:24:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21770980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucy112235/pseuds/Lucy112235
Summary: Hazel Donebrow has suffered loss and (supposedly) gotten better for it. She's a healer in her town. She has a nice house. She lives a great life. She has everything under control...Until a voice comes calling.Before she knows it, Hazel is thrown in a dark journey for answers along with her companion, an infamous rogue, Annika Lanstrong. Will she make it? Or will the answers disappear forever?
Relationships: Hazel Donebrow (OC) & Senna Donebrow (OC), Hazel Donebrow (OC)/Annika Lanstrong (OC)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 3





	Shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [willowcat33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowcat33/gifts).



> second ficmas gift!! this one is for my bean, my sib, my everything, Tea!! thank you so much for being there for me. i love you beyond words. i hope you like this very strange story :D

_ Hazel _

_ “Haz! Do come down, would you?”  _ Senna called, voice melodic and buttery sweet. Hazel Donebrow could practically feel the smile spread across her older sister’s face, wide and knowing with a tint of glee. She hopped down the stairs, tripping on her own feet as she gave her a huge hug, throwing her arms around the taller girl and holding her tight, clasping her as if she were a long-lost relic. Senna hugged her back tightly, combing a hand through Hazel’s short mahogany curls. For a moment, Sen pulled away, grasping Hazel’s hands.

_ “I’ll be back soon, ma fleur,”  _ she smiled, kissing her sister’s forehead.  _ “I promise.” _

Hazel would clasp to these words, holding them tight. Her sister had attempted many adventures, but this was by far the farthest and most dangerous. Playing in the Ivory Forest was nothing, but venturing into the North Woods? That was life-threatening. But she had confidence in her sister. She could do it.

_ “Alright,”  _ Hazel whispered.  _ “But hurry back, okay?”  _ Her voice was a soft plea, pushing tears back from their breaking point. Crying would mean that she didn’t trust her sister to come home. Crying would mean doubt. But she couldn’t hide the small jewels twinkling in her hazel eyes, big and glistening in the candlelight.

Senna’s expression softened, tucking a strand of hair behind her sister’s ear. Her hand caressed her caramel cheeks and tilted her head up, giving a small, sincere smile.  _ “My dear, take care. And I’ll be back at the next full moon. If I am to fail, my heart shall break as well as my bones.” _

Hazel nodded, wiping tears from her eyes.  _ “I love you, Sen.” _

_ “I love you too, Haz.” _ With a peck on the cheek, Senna swooped her pack over her shoulders and shut the door, not looking back. 

Hazel drops her bag, sighing as she shuts the door to her house. Her previously carried pack is heavy with bottles of medicine- ground up leaves and herbs. She’s not fit for a healer, and she knows it, but what else can she do? Galleons don’t come to her on their own.

Sho scurries around her feet, nipping at her toes with a soft purr. The black cat scratches at her pant leg, ruffling the leather as Hazel smiles slightly and fluffs her ears. The cat’s plea is a deep hum, and Hazel knows she wants food. She sighs, leading Sho into the kitchen where she pulls out a large knife, gleaming in the faint light of the oil-lit lanterns. She peers at it for a moment, as if it’s a relic buried in rubble that has finally resurfaced. Something is familiar about it- that she can tell that at least. The silver blade is more of a dagger than a cutting knife. She swears she’s never seen it before in her life, but there is a hint of acquaintanceship. Hazel carefully turns it over, and a carving on the backside makes her drop it- a huge, shining  _ S,  _ twinkling in the luminescence. 

She can’t do this. Not now. She can’t see the hunting knife of her sister, the one she’s kept for no reason at all, along with so many other relics. Maybe a part of her is in denial. Maybe a part of her really thinks she’s coming back. Maybe a part of her can’t accept the truth.

She kicks the blade under the drawers and runs back up the tiny staircase, past the door and the sitting room, tripping over her own feet. She catches a glance of the door down the hall- again, why hasn’t she boarded that off- and busts inside her own room, slamming the door behind her. The door closes with a thud, shaking the small cottage. From the roof of her small room, piles of dust ricochet down, covering the room in a mist-like cloud. Hazel runs to the window seat, the ideal place for reading on a regular basis, and yanks down the string, causing small blocks of wood to block out the early evening sun’s rays. She collapses on the window seat, utterly filled to the brim with indescribable emotion. Her sister has haunted her every day, but it’s rare that it’s as prominent as today. She couldn’t cry, promised herself she wouldn’t cry- so she sits, facing the covered window, for a long while.

Perhaps it’s an hour, or two, or maybe more when darkness begins to set over her room. She knows she must light a candle to stop the darkness or her sight will be blurred, but her limbs are numb. She can’t move. Every day for the past four months has hurt, but for some reason today hurts the most. She feels the presence of who she’s lost- tangible, even- and it weighs on her shoulders, as if she’s carrying the whole world on her back.

Evening falls to darkness and no light enters her room except the faint glow of the kitchen lanterns downstairs. She taps her hands in a soft motion, trying to wake herself up in a way. Like awaking from a deep slumber, except her eyes won’t open.

She can hear a soft scratch at the door and a low hum- Sho, no doubt- and she finally has some type of energy to stand up and trudge to the door, letting a faint streak of light inside as she picks up the small black cat, its fur soft yet ragout in her butterscotch arms. 

She walks back to the window seat with Sho nestled in her arms but leaves the door wide open, as if to let a little light in, a light that’s been missing. 

She breathes deeply, Sho nestled in the crook of her neck, twirling a short strand of hair with her paw. Besides herself, Hazel smiles a bit from the comfort. With the faint moonlight shining in from the shutters, a gentle breeze, Sho curled up in her arms, and the softness of her knitted sweater, her eyes begin to drift, lulling her to a peaceful rest.

Her thoughts have drifted in the realm of sleep for a few hours when a quiet whisper echoes in her ear. Quiet but prominent, and she has no choice to ignore it. 

A four-note tune, like a bird’s song. It’s haunting. It brings back memories she doesn’t want to revisit. 

_ What is that? _ Hazel wonders.  _ Could it… _

_ No! _

Hazel’s a person of practicality. There’s no such thing as magic, just folklore. Children’s stories seeping past the brinks of her memory. Her whole life was once stable, perfect eve, but then it got overthrown. She doesn’t need her world flipped upside down even more.

And yet, the voice is louder, blowing a chilling draft inside the covered window. Sho screeches, pouncing on the floor and hissing. Her soft ebony paws claw the ground. She pounces aimlessly.

Only then does Hazel realize every light is out.

She has relatively good night vision, but fear creeps up her neck. She always needs to know what’s happening. She needs to be in control. And she’s not. She has no idea what’s going on.

Sho jumps around her feet, growling at nothing. The small cat attempts to pounce on something but in the darkness she trips over Hazel’s foot, obviously not having very good night vision. She scoops up her pet, trying to calm the frazzled feline as she steps out of the room.

The voice hums again.

_ “Hello?”  _ Hazel calls out to no one at all, she presumes. Perhaps it’s a trick. But who would be tricking her…?

Her bare feet tap quietly on the carpeted floor. All that can be heard are the pats of her feet, Sho’s growling, and a soft, low hum. She knows she’s heard that voice before. She just can’t place it. It sounds haunting, ethereal. It doesn’t sound human, but what else could it be? Humans are the only species that can speak or, well, sing…

She approaches the stairs, trying her best not to make a sound, but she knows her attempts are futile. The stairs creak like no other. Not even an ant can tiptoe up the stairs without the whole house knowing they’re there. Whoever’s there is probably trying to run, trying to hide, so she grabs the knife she dropped, holding Sho with her other hand.

“Who are you?” Hazel calls, brandishing the blade, which still seems to glisten, even in complete darkness. “Show yourself!”

She sprints past the small red door and the cozy sitting room into the dark kitchen, her feet pounding as she trips over every furniture item she encounters. There’s no  _ way  _ that whoever it is hasn’t heard her. And yet, there’s one more low hum. She’s certain it’s in the back of the kitchen.

Fear creeps up her neck again. Who could it be? And why are they singing in her house? She holds Sho and the knife closer, telling herself to be brave. Someone’s face flashes across her mind, but she brushes it away.

She rounds the corner, determined to find whoever it is, but her kitchen is empty. No one is there. The voice is gone. The lights flicker back on.

Sho growls at the newfound light, convinced they’re still in complete darkness.


End file.
